You're Alone 'til You're Not
by Alidiabin
Summary: Tag to 3x17 'Ravenous' Tony and Ziva talk about the case in the squadroom. They talk about the killer Park Ranger and how Ziva accepted a date from him, and Ziva's interrogation of Edom.


Click. Click. Click.

Tony sighed as he looked up from the paperwork he was pretending to do, and found Ziva standing by the plasma. She pointed the clicker at the screen. The dark haired dark eyed faces of Landis' victims flashed across the screen. Ziva had been doing this for the entire twenty minutes since McGee had gone home, having completed his paperwork like the swot he was. _McGoodytwoshoes_, Tony had called as McGee slipped away at a still sociable hour.

Most nights, Ziva was usually right behind McGeek, as she was good at employing her Mossad skills to block out distractions with most of those distractions coming from Tony. But, today Ziva had barely touched her paperwork, and had sprung up from her desk minutes after McGee left and lined up Landis' dark haired victims. Ziva had clicked on every face, making it bigger before returning it to the line up.

Then she put the clicker on the cabinet, and reached into the pocket of her pants, and produced her rather plain wallet. She carefully plucked her driver's license from her wallet, and dumped the wallet on the top of the cabinet. Ziva held up her own licence next to the faces of the victims.

Dark hair. Dark eyes.

Ziva and these women could be sisters.

James Landis had a type.

Tony felt his heart sink.

He knew what she was thinking. It had been a passing thought that had occurred to him as they drove back to base. Ziva had accepted a date with the serial killer park ranger. She liked camping and the great outdoors. Ziva could have been next.

Tony had been careful not to verbalise that thought. It was too close to home.

Tony got up from his desk, and walked across the squad room. He stood behind her, and plucked the drivers licence from her hand.

"If you keep doing that," Tony said, as he held the licence in his hand. Noting her address in Silver Spring, and remembering the perfect spaghetti bolognese she made after they spent twelve hours in that damn shipping container. He also tried not to wince at her age. She was so young, but she had lived through so much. Too much. She was too young. "You're not going to sleep tonight."

Ziva grabbed her licence from his hand, and slipped into the pockets of her cargo pants.

"I am used to sleepless nights," she said, a sadness in her voice. Jane Bond had her secrets.

Tony moved behind her, and reached for the clicker. He pressed the button and the screen went dark.

"I didn't think this would be the thing that spooked you about this case," Tony declared.

_Every case takes something from you little grains of sand,_ one of the detectives he worked with at Baltimore had said, as they investigated another dead drug dealer. _Sometimes you can go home and replenish the hourglass. But, it's when the cases become just another day in the office, that you know it's time to hang up your boots._

Ziva moved so that they were looking each other in the eyes. She could see right through him.

"I mean you put off the date," Tony said as his neck got red. Ziva's eyes pierced into him. "I figured you got a gut feeling or something."

Ziva looked away. Averting her eyes. The black screen of the plasma was a mirror. Her eyes stared back at him. There was pain in those eyes.

"That was more me trying to follow American dating conventions," Ziva admitted. "Not wanting to look sleazy."

Tony frowned, but did not both to correct her choice of words.

This was deliberate, to try and get him off side.

"Is it really that different here?" Tony asked.

He would be the first to admit that until Ziva David bounced into their lives, looking like she stepped out of desert storm, he knew very little about Israel. He knew enough to do his job, but little about the culture. Now, he made an effort to learn about Israel, and had finally tried falafel, changing his opinion on the vegetarian dish. Anthony DiNozzo Junior did not often chose the meatless option.

He had sat through the first half of a movie set in Israel during a sleepless night after another difficult case. The movie had not exactly been Tony's preferred genre, it had been about a teenager celebrating her birthday, while her brother is serving, and her parents separate. The movie had been one of the few, non biblical ones set in Israel, available in the video store by Tony's house. The one where some of the clerks knew him by name, and forgave his late returns. The film had not brought him any closer to understanding Ziva, but had helped with his case related insomnia.

Ziva blinked a few times.

"Not exactly," Ziva declared, her words hanging in the air. "But, I usually only dated people who could understand my job. Though dating is a strong word."

Sparks could fly when the danger was high.

"So Mossad doesn't have Rule 12?" Tony asked with a smile.

Ziva scoffed.

"Technically that rule is only Gibbs' rule," Ziva said. "And, no Mossad does not have a similar rule. Though the ratio of female operatives to male operatives means it is not the spy orgy you are beginning to imagine it is."

Tony's face flushed red. She had seen right through him.

"Sometimes the only comfort in the shadows, is someone who is also in them," Ziva declared. Her voice soft again.

Jane Bond had a depth he was only beginning to understand.

Tony nodded.

"I have slept with men who have killed before," Ziva admitted, as she looked at the blank screen. Her voice still soft, and distant. "Men who have done bad things."

"Who said anything about sleeping with him?" Tony asked.

Ziva smirked.

"It is a natural progression, yes?" She asked.

Tony swallowed thickly.

"Guess so," he answered. "If the dates go well."

Ziva stepped backward, so that she was leaning on the cabinet. Tony felt the gap in the space she created.

"Anyway," Ziva said, as she looked at her feet.

She was wearing heavy combat boots. Tony looked her up and down, taking in her combat pants and tight sweater. More than a few times she had tried to dress more in line with what HR considered work appropriate attire. Tight skirts, sweaters, and heels. She had been aiming for career girl barbie, but looked like an intern who still wasn't comfortable dressing like a grown up. Perhaps this was all part of her attempts to adapt to America, he wondered now. Whatever her motive, it seemed that the skirts and heels had been banished to the back of her closet, and she had settled into her uniform of work clothes on top and cargo pants on bottom.

"I usually get a sense about these men, an aura you might say," Ziva said, "But I did not this time."

"These people are good at hiding things," Tony said softly, trying to give her some grace. "They put on masks. It's profiling 101. Besides you spent what twenty minutes alone with him tops."

Ziva frowned.

"Usually I can see through the mask," Ziva admitted. "I have seen enough evil."

Tony sucked in a breath. The air made his teeth ached.

He thought of that girl they had rescued. She had been so scared. Afraid on a primal level.

He thought of the other park ranger, the one Tony had changed his mind about dating, she had been so profoundly shocked by the turn of events.

"Like he would have gotten that far with you," Tony said softly. "You would have Mossad karate chopped him into the next state if he even tried something."

Ziva shook her head, and swallowed thickly.

Tony sucked in a breath. The faces of the park rangers victims played like a slideshow in his head, how quickly he added Ziva's face.

It had not even been a year since they lost Kate. He couldn't do that again.

Tony shook his head, banishing the image.

"What happened to your date?" Ziva asked as she slid her wallet into her pants.

Tony's mouth dropped open.

How quickly the tide had turned?

"We had some compatibility issues," Tony replied delicately.

A smirk washed over Ziva's face.

"She does not shave, does she?" Ziva said.

Tony frowned.

He knew it was shallow, but he had not been too hot on the date long before he caught sight of the rangers hairy legs. Tony's favourite part of being a single man in a large city, was the chase. He enjoyed the back and forth flirting. He enjoyed the idea of starting something.

The movies always ended with the couple getting together. Not with boring Sunday brunches or merging bank accounts.

Being left at the altar was the start of the movie, not the end.

"How do you know?" Tony asked.

Ziva looked him up and down.

"It has been a long winter," Ziva said. "I imagine that those cabins have been cold. Sometimes the most practical choice is not the most beautiful."

Tony looked down at his feet.

"You shave right?" He asked, as he looked back up. He studied her. The little hint of midriff between her pants and her sweater.

Ziva looked him up and down. Her eyes lingered at his chest.

"You have seen me naked," Ziva announced, as she stepped forward. "Only four months ago."

That weekend around the Marine corp birthday ball, had been the weirdest Tony had experienced as an agent. His arms had ached from the press ups for days afterwards.

_If this was Mossad, _Ziva had whispered as she straddled him, rubbing his hairy chest. _We would have gone whole pig._

_Whole hog_, he had corrected, as he willed his brain to imagine something gross, to banish the bulge that was growing in his tighty whities.

"Not technically," Tony replied.

Ziva had worn an itty bitty thong, that really left little to the imagination. Ziva's body had been tight and curvy in all the right places. She had been so young, days away from her twenty third birthday, as her faked moans vibrated on his chest.

He tried so hard to banish thoughts of her, when they crept into his head, during lonely showers.

"Close enough," Ziva said, as she tapped his chest. "And, you saw enough to know that I remove hair from the places most people do."

He balled his hands into fists, as he thought of her smooth skin. How soft it had been under his hands as he rubbed her back.

"You're probably pretty handy with the razor," Tony said.

Ziva stepped back.

"I prefer waxing," Ziva admitted. "It is painful but more time effective. Perhaps waxing would be helpful for your hair issue."

Her eyes darted to his bottom.

"No one else has complained," he lied, as he stepped back.

Ziva moved toward her desk, and hovered between the cabinet and the desk.

"What did you mean?" Ziva asked. "When you said that you did not think Landis would be the part of the case that spooked me."

Ziva's voice was soft.

Tony stepped closer, and stood in front of Ziva's desk.

"You know," he said, as he reached up to his head, and pulled at his hair. "Well it's just that Edom seemed to shake you like a rattle."

Ziva scoffed, and shrugged.

"It is hardly the first time I have encountered such ignorance," Ziva replied.

Ziva did not talk much about her religion or how being an Israeli Jew in America affected her life. Christmas and Hannkuah had overlapped during Ziva's first holiday season in America. Abby, and Ducky had made a show of asking Ziva about her traditions. Ziva had shrugged then too, reminding them that Hannukah was not a big holiday in Israel. Ducky had asked Ziva about Purim the other day, as they photographed a body. Tony had learnt that there was a big Purim parade in Tel Aviv every Spring.

"I guess it's a bit different," Tony said softly. "Hearing that stuff here."

Ziva reached for her necklace, and fiddled with the gold star pendant.

"I have heard similar sentiments here," Ziva said, with a frown. "I know that here it is just ignorance. Where I am from these things are more complicated."

Tony swallowed thickly.

He had been around the block enough times to know that prejudice was not contained by geography.

"I think Edom learnt something," Tony said. "To look beyond differences, and all that."

Ziva fiddled with the necklace, and shrugged.

"I am not a teachable moment for somebody," Ziva said, with a firmness.

"Seems like it was a teachable moment for you," Tony said, digging himself deeper into the hole he was in. "Even racists can be good Dads."

Ziva poked the point of her necklace into her thumb.

"Those two things are not mutually exclusive," Ziva replied, with a sigh. "I am sure there are many men who have dangerous views who manage to make it to every soccer practice and to all the dance recitals."

Tony leaned on her desk.

"And, many good people who miss every single performance," Tony said softly. "Even when they promise."

Ziva looked up at him. Her mouth dropped open.

"Nice try," she declared as she regained her composure.

Tony leaned closer.

"I wasn't trying anything," Tony replied. It was a lie. "But, that interrogation rattled you. Seems like you had to dig deep for that one."

Ziva pressed the point of her necklace into her thumb. It went deep. Tony almost expected it to produce blood.

"An interrogation is hardly the measure of honesty," Ziva replied. "You must do whatever it takes to get a confession, no?"

Tony sighed.

"Well not exactly whatever it takes," Tony said. "We have laws in this country."

Ziva shrugged again.

"And to think until I joined NCIS I had not conducted an interrogation without inflicting physical harm," Ziva said. Her voice sultry. Ziva was well-practiced at building walls. She had let her defenses down, and now how to build them back up. Quickly.

"You certainly have made progress," he said, keeping his tone light. "And, I was just gonna say I get it. It sucks when they promise, and then fail to show up."

Tony could remember sitting in the common room at boarding school, watching as classmate after classmate was summoned to go home for winter break. Tony's name was never called. He was always left behind.

_But he promised,_ Tony would whine as the headmaster directed Tony back to his dorm.

Ziva looked down at her desk.

"My father," Ziva said. Her voice heavy. "He never promised he would be there. I always knew where I was on his list of priorities."

Tony sucked in a deep breath.

Which was worse?

To be promised and left waiting, or to be told that they were never a priority in the first place.

"That sucks," he said.

Ziva sighed.

"It is what it is," Ziva replied.

Tony nodded.

"It was ballet, right?" Tony said.

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"Why does that matter?" He asked.

He thought of the Ziva he saw in that hotel room. Her legs and arms perfectly toned. The gracefulness she could move with, even with a gun in her hand.

That had to be because of a childhood career as a ballet dancer.

"It doesn't," Tony admitted. "I just can't imagine you doing Israeli folk dancing."

Ziva smiled.

Tony was not entirely sure what Israeli folk dancing was.

"Only for a year," Ziva said. Her voice giving away that it was a joke.

Tony nodded.

"So ballet?" He asked again. "It's always ballet with little girls."

Ziva raised her eyebrows to her hairline.

Tony tried to imagine Ziva as a child. How early did she start ninja training?

"What do you know about little girls?" Ziva asked. Her eyebrow at her hairline.

Tony smiled.

"I don't," Tony said. "But, I've dated enough women with childhood ballet careers."

He'd dated enough women with crappy father's too.

Many more from the latter rather than the former, but there were a few who belonged to both groups.

Ziva seemed satisfied, and stepped to the side, to collect her backpack.

"It was a long time ago," Ziva said. Her voice wistful. The sadness had crept in.

"I gotta say," Tony said, he always had to have the last word. "It's hard to imagine you doing ballet. It doesn't exactly fit with the little ninja image I have of you as a kid."

Ziva slung the backpack over her shoulder.

"I did not dance for long," Ziva said. "And, the skills I learnt were useful when I started krav maga."

Ziva stepped out from her desk, and looked toward the elevator.

"Do you wanna get dinner?" Tony asked, as he looked out the windows. It was dark. The deep darkness of late night. "I haven't eaten yet, and you should probably eat."

If they were going to go out to eat, their choices would be limited.

His favourite pizza place was still open. He could do pizza. He could always do pizza.

Ziva shook her head.

"No thank you," Ziva said. "I am just going to go home."

Tony nodded. His stomach grumbled. He would pick up pizza on the way home.

"And practice your ninja moves?" Tony asked.

Ziva smiled. A soft smile.

He could see her apartment in his head. It was minimalistic in terms of furniture, but had cosy touches. The throw draped over the couch. The pile of books in multiple languages piled on top of the piano. The yoga mat rolled up, and sitting on the spare chair behind the dining table.

It turned out that G.I Jane led a rather boring home life.

If he ever let him into his apartment, it would reveal that he led a pretty boring home life too.

Not that he planned to let her into his apartment. It was his safe place.

"My neighbours would not appreciate that," Ziva said, as she hovered by the partition."I think I will do something quieter. I will see you tomorrow."

Tony moved to his desk, and collected his own backpack. The paperwork could wait. It could always wait.

"Wait a moment," he said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll walk you out."

**A/N**:

I don't own a thing.

This fic followed the muse around for weeks. I'm not sure if it works, S3 Tony and Ziva were so young, and far less introspective. There was also a lot of early installment weirdness in S3. I'm not sure how it worked out. If you enjoyed it, or have thoughts please let me know.

Parts of this fic have been included in other fics I've written. So, if you get deja vu, that's why.

Also, I haven't seen the episode in years. So if I go anything is wrong in terms of the episode continuity, please forgive me.

Fic title form 'Older and Taller' by Regina Spektor.

Unbetaed because I am a heathen.


End file.
